Night of Snow
by aervien
Summary: [SessSan]'It was strange, she mused, that the arms of a man who would give up the world for her scared her more than the arms of a man who loved her even more than that.'


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha. Characters and setting copyrighted to Rumiko Takahashi. All rights reserved, etc, etc. Any character unrecognizable from the manga or anime is mine, as is the plot. Please do not use either without my permission.

**(A/N) **I haven't updated _Lost is Lost_ in a while, but apparently my muses don't plan to for a few weeks. They did, however, agree to a one shot, as long as I could think up a one shot they'd be happy with. So, this is my Christmas present to all you Inuyasha fans out there who happen to stumble across this story (mainly my wonderful _tomodachi_, Sarah). Warning, it includes character death, which some of you might not like. If you don't quite understand the message after you read it, e-mail me and I'll explain it as best I can. Enjoy!

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_The final battle with Naraku didn't go as any of them had planned, and she was left alone, her companions gone, either dead or missing. But amidst the falling snow, one tajiya finds that though the night is black, the snow still retains its white purity, and that the season of giving isn't over._

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**Night of Snow**  
_Taiyoukai Lady_

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It was snowing. The delicate ice crystals fell from the sky in an endless flurry of white powder, the wind batting it back and forth like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. The wolf's howl was lost among the wind's whistle, and any sane person who cared at all about his life was inside, warming himself to a fire.

She wiped her forehead, sweating despite the freezing cold. She had a purpose, and no measly snow was going to stop her. A scarf was wrapped around her neck, and she buried her nose in its fluffy softness for a moment, closing her eyes as she remembered the gift's purpose, and the memories held within.

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_She stared down at the wrapped gift that the other girl had presented to her. Cocking her head in incomprehension, Sango just blinked at the package before raising her eyes to give Kagome a blank look. The younger girl rolled her eyes before telling her in a cheerful voice, "Remember what I told you about Christmas?"_

_Sango nodded slowly before hesitantly pointing out, "Kagome, it's not December 25 yet. That's in a couple weeks."_

_Kagome smiled, "I know. But I might not be back until after the holidays because my family and I are going to visit some relatives elsewhere. So I figured I'd give it to you now, when I am here."_

_Sango smiled. "Arigato," she said softly. Taking the package, Sango unwrapped it under Kagome's expectant eyes and gasped when she pulled out a beautiful, fluffy pink scarf that went well with her battle outfit. "Oh, Kagome, it's wonderful. Arigato…"_

_Kagome just grinned. "My pleasure. I'm glad you like it! Well then, I'm off to give Shippo his gift! Ja ne!" The schoolgirl ran off and Sango smiled after her. Carefully, she wrapped the scarf around her neck and reveled in its warmness. Sango's face had a contented expression as she felt the love and friendship wrap around her, keeping her warm in the cold, cold air._

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It did not keep her warm now.

No, the cold had long since ceased to exist for her, lost as she was in her toils. Her hands were blistered from the continuous labor, and she couldn't feel her toes anymore. In a haze, her mind murmured a warning about frostbite, but she no longer cared.

After Kagome had given her the scarf, she had sensed a shard, and they had set out to retrieve it.

That was when it had all gone wrong.

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"_This way!" Kagome pointed from her usual position on Inuyasha's back. Shippo clung to her, huddling into her warmth, hiding from the cold air. Behind her, Sango felt Miroku shift and wince as a shard of flying ice cut his cheek. Sango wanted to turn around and take the monk in her arms, but now was not the time._

"_Oh my god…"_

_Sango's attention spun back to the front and she stifled a gasp._

_Before them lay a field of carnage. The red blood stained the snow, until it looked to be a blanket of red rose petals, layering each other over and over. But that wasn't what had caught her attention. Sango's heart nearly stopped when she saw the figure standing in the middle of the field._

'No…'

_Suddenly, she felt arms around her, but she ripped herself free, ignoring the cry of pain that escaped Miroku's lips when her flailing arm threw him off Kirara's back. She heard Inuyasha curse and Shippo catch the monk in his pink bubble form, but none of this mattered anymore. Edging Kirara on, Sango just didn't care anymore._

"_KOHAKUUU!" someone shouted. Strange. Her throat felt suddenly sore._

_There in the middle of the field, Naraku held her little brother up in the air, not by a fist to his throat. No… by an arm through his chest. Smirking, Naraku took the shard out of Kohaku's back. In his hand he held another large piece of the jewel. Now, all that was left was Kagome's and Kouga's._

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Kouga had appeared later on in the battle, after Miroku had been killed and Kirara wounded. Sango herself was hurt, barely conscious at the fringe of the battle; close enough to see what was happening, yet far enough to receive the missed attacks, which she could see Miroku's body was getting.

Kagome somehow managed to retrieve all the pieces of the Shikon no Tama, Kouga giving his up without a fight before joining the fray with Inuyasha. Using her powers, the miko had melded the shards together. Holding it to her chest, Kagome had whispered something, presumably the wish.

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_Sango watched in horror as the jewel suddenly burst into pink flames. But even though the blaze was obviously hurting her, Kagome held on tightly. Inuyasha, distracted by her peril, received a tentacle through his chest, and was instantly poisoned with Naraku's miasma. Kouga got the same treatment. But before any of them died, the pink fire grew tremendously, and Sango could only watch, helpless, as the raging inferno swallowed the combatants and soon the entire battlefield, she herself barely out of its range. Soon, it disappeared, leaving nothing in its wake._

_It wasn't until Sango noticed a strange coldness on her cheeks that she realized she was crying._

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He lifted his nose slightly into the air and sniffed. Frowning as the breeze wafted the scent of blood into his sensitive nostrils, he abruptly changed direction. Looking at each other, his followers shrugged and quickly followed.

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She was infinitely cold now, and her neck of the only thing she could move without a great deal of effort. It didn't matter though. Her task was done. Six empty graves stood in a neat line. The names were obviously hand-carved with a crude tool, the characters messy. But it served its purpose. Six empty graves for six people who had disappeared without even an ash left behind.

Six friends she couldn't save.

Sighing, she felt her legs buckle and felt her cheek hit the cold, snow-covered ground.

As the snow fell, Sango gave up the fight for life, and embraced the idea of meeting her loved ones once more in the afterlife.

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He stopped and looked down. One of his followers walked up next to him and gasped.

"Oh, poor lady!" She raised pleading eyes up to him, and he sighed, knowing what she wanted. A two-headed creature plodded over, and he lifted the woman onto its back. Turning, he walked away. The two followers and the two-headed creature padded softly behind him.

Later, a youkai came over and sniffed the area, but the snow had already covered the tracks, and all his poor eyesight could see were six upright stones with squiggly carvings on them. Shrugging, the youkai went away.

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She awoke to the sound of a crackling fire and to a warmth she thought strange. Unlike the heat from Kagome's fire, which not only radiated warmth, but love and compassion as well, this was warmth that was chilling in its indifference. This was a warmth that could kill without second thought.

She knew instantly who had found her.

Eyes snapping open, Sango sat upright with a jolt. Across the fire, he sat, a killing perfection clothed in innocent white. She had always thought the clothes were rather fitting. White, marred by red.

Snow, tainted with blood.

They sat there staring at each other for what seemed like eternity. Then, he pointed to an object next to her. Sango blinked and spotted the bowl with a porridge-like substance inside. Immediately, she grabbed it, and started stuffing her mouth, the warm food filling her empty stomach easily. About halfway done, she lifted her gaze back up to him and to her surprise, found him with his head lowered, seemingly asleep.

His face was almost too passive to be the cold-blooded killer she had always made him out to be.

Staring at him, Sango's fire almost managed to light up again.

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Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since he had found her. During that time, she had done nothing but walk where he told her to walk, eat what he told her to eat, do whatever he told her to do. He had no doubt that if he had told her to throw herself off a cliff and drown, she would have done so quite happily. She had almost done so once, and only his quick reflexes and speed had stopped her from falling too far.

He didn't know what he kept her around for; she did nothing to contribute unless he stated an order specifically. His ward attended to her constantly, but she had kept on her emotionless façade.

It irked him to no end.

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"_Sango, what will you do after the final battle?"_

_She turned her face up, surprised that Miroku asked her such a question. Not because of the question itself, but because of the seriousness of his tone. She paused in her work and thought about the question. "I suppose I'd go around to the villages, accepting work like a regular demon slayer. Make a family. Rebuild my village."_

"_Sango."_

_She looked up. A mistake. His violet eyes immediately caught hers and she was struck immobile by the raw emotion in them. She did not know he loved her so much._

_It frightened her._

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One month.

And still no difference. The sun rose. The sun set. The moon rose. The moon set. And the cycle began all over again. Just as surely as the sun rose in the east, she would be up. Ready to serve at the slightest bend of his little finger.

Ready to die the moment his back was turned.

He wanted to destroy that porcelain doll's face.

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"_Sango, I have to ask you something."_

_Sango sat down and faced him. Her heartbeat was irregular, and she couldn't keep her eyes off his face, couldn't tear her eyes off his. "What is it?"_

_He sat down next to her._

"_Sango. You know that I love you, right?"_

_She knew. And she accepted it._

_It was the volume of that love that intimidated her._

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Six weeks.

Six damn weeks.

His youkai blood boiled every time he saw her empty eyes. They infuriated him more than anything ever had. He didn't quite know why. But he didn't quite care. All he knew was that he would soon go mad from the void.

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_She panted slightly as she rested. His arms enfolded her, and she buried her face in his bare chest. The flesh around her tightened and she nearly suffocated from her fear._

"_Miroku, what would you do if I died?"_

_The fear was intense. She didn't know why she felt it, but she did. His love was wonderful; tonight had proved it. But it wasn't the way she'd imagined. She didn't want it this way. His answer frightened her more._

"_I'd join you."_

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They were alone, his two followers gone to forage for food.

He couldn't stop himself.

His hand slammed her into the tree's trunk, but she did nothing about it. That alone enraged him. He snarled in her face. Grabbed every insult he could think up and threw it into her face, eyes red as the youkai blood gradually took control. He insulted her, her family, her friends… her lover.

Despite his stinging cheek, his youkai blood retreated when he looked into her eyes.

He was strangely pleased to see the returning fire.

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"_Sango, if I died you wouldn't take another lover, would you?"_

_It was after another of their nightly activities, and they were resting like usual. Slightly amused, they had lain there, listening to the soft sounds made by Inuyasha and Kagome._

"_No," she murmured._

_She looked up. A mistake._

_Those violet eyes scared her more than Naraku with the jewel._

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Her back arched. Her skin burned. Her mouth panted. Her hands roamed.

How had it come to this?

A little while later, she lay in his arms, naked. He was dozing lightly, nose buried in her neck, arms wound around her. This was the position she would often end up in with Miroku.

But this man wasn't Miroku.

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"_I love you, Sango."_

"_You're the only one I care about, Sango."_

"_I'd die if you did, Sango."_

"_Sango, you know I love you more than the world, right?"_

_Those sentences, meant as endearments, scared her stiff._

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Touching her swollen belly, she stared out into the sunset. Light footsteps could be heard behind her, and soon a white-clad figure moved in front of her to the very edge of the cliff, a little ways past her. His hair swayed in the breeze, and his face was relaxed. A question popped into her head, and she blurted it out with a sudden ache to know his answer.

"Sesshoumaru, what would you do if I died?"

He turned slightly, so his side was to her, his head turned to see her better. There was some surprise on his face, but not much. His eyes caught hers.

Sesshoumaru's golden gaze was even more intense than Miroku's violet one. Centuries of memories were hidden behind those lashes. This was a man who had seen the birth of a civilization. A man who had the blood of countless innocents staining his hands.

A man she loved.

It was strange, she mused, that the arms of a man who would give up the world for her scared her more than the arms of a man who loved her even more than that. Perhaps that was why she found that Sesshoumaru's arms seemed so much safer than Miroku's. If she had died then, Miroku would've gladly given up his life to go join her in the afterlife. Sesshoumaru had other responsibilities. He had other lives to care about. He was a Lord who loved his land more than any youkai would ever admit. Though he had an icy exterior, Sesshoumaru was nothing if not passionate. Miroku was a candle's flame compared to Sesshoumaru's fiery bonfire. If she died now…

"I'd live."

Sango stared into the golden depths of her lover's eyes, knowing the love there was reflected in her own chocolate gaze. She smiled and her eyes trailed to his shoulder.

No blood.

In his arms, Sango once again felt the love and friendship from so long ago wrap around her, keeping her warm.

It was snowing.

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_Word Count: 2458_


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